


Fourteen Year Olds Shouldn't Have Bug-Out Bags

by Draikinator



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 21:51:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2827298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draikinator/pseuds/Draikinator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble about my favourite precious child Rafael and some of his post Predacons Rising issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fourteen Year Olds Shouldn't Have Bug-Out Bags

Rafael tapped his phone against his knee absently, worrying his bottom lip and staring up at the entrance to the empty staircase he was sitting under, legs pressed up against his chest, backpack still firmly behind him.

The footsteps he had heard continued upwards undisturbed, and he was safe. He turned back to his phone, flipping open the screen. No new messages. He snapped it closed again, then back open and composed a new message to Bee.

_-u said u werent busy today. everything ok?-_

He shut it and went back to tapping it against his knee and waiting for it to buzz confirmation of a new message. Nothing.

Finally, just as the stagnant heat of the lower floors was starting to make him nod off, forehead pressed against his knees, slack and drowsy, his phone buzzed in his hand and he startled himself back to awareness.

_-Are you in school right now?-_

Raf couldn’t stop the disgruntled noise that bubbled up from his throat and his eyes cut back up to the stairs nervously.

_-nah. come pick me up and lets go racing.-_

He didn’t have to wait for a reply this time, thankfully.

_-You’re underestimating my ability to check your timezone. Are you skipping class again?-_

Raf snapped his phone shut without a response, and stood on legs shaky with the pin prickling numbness of having sat for far too long in such a strange position. He shoved his phone into his pants pocket, and, with a peak around the corner to check for prying eyes, decided it was time to go find lunch.

* * *

 

He was sitting against his legs (a bad habit, he knew, but it was hard not to crumple into himself when he felt so exposed like this. Far too many windows in here) in a hard plastic booth at the only McDonalds in the small town he’d been relocated (alone) to, knees jammed against the lip of the table, shoving fistfuls of lukewarm french fries in his mouth with the exasperation of someone far older when his phone buzzed again. He considered ignoring it, but only for a moment.

_-You are, aren’t you? Raf, you PROMISED you would stop doing that!-_

_-i know all the material and the teacher sucks ass i dont wanna go-_

The next message was a short burst of corrupted binary, something that usually happened when Bee slipped back into Cybertronian- an emotional near tic he hadn’t quite gotten under control even now. Raf sighed and hit accept when he recieved the inevitable call.

[What has been up with you lately?!] Bee said, obviously still too frustrated to force himself into English. Rafael didn’t mind- honestly, he preferred the comforting whirrs and chirps of native Cybertronian. He always felt more important when Bee used it around him now that he didn’t _have_ to, but Raf wasn’t about to tell him so.

"Nothing! Nothing," he said, hushing himself when people’s eyes turned toward him, and he decided it was time to take his leave.

[It is _not_ nothing. You’ve been _quiet_ and _cynical_ and- and you’re skipping school! Jack says you don’t talk to him anymore. All you ever wanna do is go racing and I- Raf, buddy, I’m _worried_ about you. I don’t know why you think I’m _not_.]

He shoved one hand in his pocket and stepped outside into the brisk weather. It was cold, and probably going to rain soon. He wasn’t too worried though, there was an umbrella and a jacket in his backpack if he needed them, along with a wallet full of cash and his school ID, a change of clothes, a spare cellphone (disposable, of course, prepaid minutes- he’d found it a month ago at Target, and considered himself fortunate) some non-perishable food, a couple of water bottles, and an assortment of things he hoped he wouldn’t need- a gas mask, a set of walkie talkies, the flare gun he’d taken from his uncle’s emergency kit- and obviously his laptop. He’d left his textbooks at home; not enough room.

"It’s… Not that… I mean, I don’t…" He trailed off uncertainly, shuffling his feet together as he walked aimlessly down the street.

[Just tell me how to help you. I _want_ to help you.]

"I… I just wanna go racing. That’s it. Come get me?" He said, leaning back against the chain link fence at the edge of the bridge. He didn’t really want to cross it (there were only two safe directions off and it put him far to close in proximity to unfamiliar vehicles without an easy escape route) but he didn’t much want to turn around and go back to school either.

[Yeah. Okay. Arcee! Cover me over here for a couple hours, I’m bridgin’ out. Send me your coordinates and I’ll be there in a minute.]

The line clicked off and he slumped against the fence, easing into the give and tugging the hood of his windbreaker up to block the sharp breeze’s path to his already red cheeks.

It was less than ten minutes before the black and yellow Urbana rolled over the bridge and opened the passenger side door to him. He pulled himself to his feet and slid into the familiar shape, letting his legs drop to the floorboards and tugging his backpack over one arm to sit in his lap. He cradled it against his chest, letting his chin rest against the top of it. The door shut.

"What’s wrong?" Bee said after a few minutes of quiet driving across town.

Raf shook his head and buried his eyes in the folds of his backpack silently.

"Do you not want me calling anymore? I- it’s okay to ask, if you want me to stop, I-"

"No!" Raf said, jerking his head up and Bumblebee nearly hit the brakes at the desperation in his voice, "No, no- I- I just…" He buried his head back in his backpack, mumbling, "Please don’t stop talking to me."

"I won’t," Bee promised, turning onto the on ramp.

More silence.

"Do you maybe- do _you_ wanna talk to _me_?"

Raf looked up, “Maybe. Yes. No. I don’t know.”

"Why won’t you go to school? You love school," Bee was going a reasonable pace now on the open highway, the sky breaking out into a light drizzle and already Raf’s posture was relaxing some.

"I used to," he said quietly, and moved his eyes to the window, "but I don’t know what the point is anymore. Two years ago I was fighting a war. And now I’m just supposed to go back to algebra? Just like that?"

"You shouldn’t have had to do that," Bee said after a moment, "It wasn’t our place to put that on you."

Raf shook his head, “No- I mean, maybe, yeah, but- that’s not what I meant. I meant... I just mean that… I miss feeling… Useful, I guess.”

"Useful?"

"No one at home even notices when I skip," he sighed, "And school just… Everyone else is scared of failing chemistry and I’m scared- I’m scared of giant aliens robots destroying my town and killing my family."

This time Bee did stop.

"Raf, there’s hardly any 'Cons left on earth, and none of them have you on their priority list at all. You shouldn’t be afraid of them."

"I know. I know that! It doesn’t… Make it go away though."

Bee started moving again, hesitantly, but Raf seemed to tense up at being still so he pushed his speedometer back up, “No, I- I know that. I’m sorry.”

Raf shrugged, still staring out the window

"Jack and Miko are worried too, you know. Ratchet asks about you a lot."

"I know. He even called."

"Did you answer?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Raf tucked his legs under himself, “I don’t… I dunno. I feel so… I mean, look at me,” he said, gesturing, and Bee whined something sad and without translation.

[What do you _mean_ look at you?]

Raf slunk down, trying to hide his guilt in his collar, shrinking back into his jacket. He hadn’t meant to upset him back into Cybertronian. Twice in one day.

"I just- what right does a tiny, squishy fleshbag like me have to be talking to aliens from another planet, anyway? You keep coming out here for me and you- _you_ practically run your whole planet now and I’m still acting like a stupid, spoiled selfish _kid_ taking your time and Ratchet’s so _busy_ and-"

[Raf- if I didn’t want to be here, I _wouldn’t_ be. We’re _family_ , remember? Even on the days no one is actively trying to kill us.] Bee buzzed, low, and Raf rubbed at his eyes, sniffling.

"No, I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have s- I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry-"

"It’s okay, it really is. I promise. Call Ratchet sometime, okay? He’s really worried about you."

Raf nodded and wiped his nose on his sleeve, letting his bag drop to the floor.

"Can we actually go racing?" Raf asked after a moment and smiled when Bee revved his engine in answer.


End file.
